More commands from the rich and powerful. I didn’t snarl at her, because I wanted to find out some things myself, like whether Renee had been on the scene Friday night, and what kinds of questions the sheriff was asking. Above all, I wanted time alone with Edwards Bayard.
Out in the hall, I leaned against the wall next to the door, but the murmurs within didn’t reach to me. The guard stared at me. I hoped he was memorizing my face as someone with unquestioned access to Catherine’s room.
I strolled to the window at the end of the corridor. As I’d expected, the private wing commanded a view of the lake, but directly below the window an apartment building was being deconstructed so the hospital could add yet another building to its gargantuan operation. They were taking the building apart slowly, instead of blowing it to bits-I suppose a blast would shock the cardiac pavilion. Where the outer wall had come down, I could see dangling pipe and a bed that someone had left behind.
After ten minutes or so, Renee Bayard came out of the room with her son. With a pointed look at me, she told the guard no one was to be allowed into the room except the private nurse, the two doctors whose names the guard had and herself and Edwards. No volunteers carrying flowers, no private investigators and absolutely no officers of the law. If any o? the above tried to force their way past, the guard was to beep Renee at once: Was that clear?
When he agreed that that was clear, she beckoned to me to join them and sailed down the hall. Edwards and I were about the same height, a good four inches taller than Renee, but we almost had to jog to keep up with her.
In the elevator going down Renee kept the conversation casuaclass="underline" the doctor felt strongly that they should discontinue the morphine pump by the end of the day today; she hoped Edwards agreed? Catherine would be in the hospital a few more days; they should bring her laptop over so she could chat with her friends; they needed to decide when they could let her friends visit.
At the bottom, Renee led us out the front, into a waiting car. She told the driver to take us home. “The Banks Street house, Yoshi. Miss Catherine is very weak, but she is conscious and alert; we’re pleased with the progress she’s making.”
I felt a reluctant sympathy for Edwards, who hadn’t been able to edge in anything since saying, “Yes, I didn’t want her on the morphine a second day, anyway.” It would have been hard to grow up with such a strong personality rolling over you. Perhaps that’s why he’d sought refuge in the rightwing causes anathema to his parents.
CHAPTER 37
At the Banks Street apartment, Renee stopped to tell Elsbetta she wanted coffee in her study, then swept down the hall without looking to see if her son and I were following. Edwards stalked after his mother, not wanting to talk to me-sulking because Renee had reduced him to eight-year-old status. I stared curiously into the rooms we passed, especially at a long sitting room with a baby grand, and walls hung with paintings. The hall was lined with curio cases. Edwards tapped his foot ostentatiously when I stopped to inspect a Greek-looking pot. I asked how old it was, but he only told me to come along and took me into a room overlooking the back garden.
This seemed to be Renee’s private space in the apartment, where she had both office equipment and home comforts-books, family photos, worn rugs and chairs suitable for lounging. There was also an alcove with chairs less suitable for lounging, and it was there that she directed her son and me to sit.
“Edwards and I want to know how you came to be involved with Catherine. No more stories, please, about an interview with the school paper.” Renee Bayard had the impersonal force of a hurricane-you couldn’t take offense-you either held your ground or got flattened.
I smiled. “That was Catherine’s story. Although I was feeling pretty
frustrated with her at the time, I admired her resourcefulness in thinking it up on the spot.”
“That doesn’t answer the question-what is your name? It didn’t seem important to remember it before.”
“V 1. Warshawski.” I handed her one of my cards.
“Yes, I see. Now. Why were you here on-Wednesday afternoon, wasn’t it? How did you come to follow Catherine home? And why did you then go to New Solway on Thursday to bother my staff?”
“Ma’am, I have a great deal of respect for your husband, and am acquiring a fair amount for you as I watch you in action-but you mustn’t jump over facts to get to the conclusion you want.”
Edwards’s eyebrows shot up; he apparently wasn’t used to seeing people stand up to his mother. Renee studied me. “And what fact do you think I’m `jumping over’?”
“You assume, or want to believe, that I followed Catherine home last week.”
Elsbetta entered with a trolley holding another ornate china service. When she’d served us and left, Renee continued as if there had been no interruption.
“I know Catherine didn’t get your name from Darraugh Graham. How did you meet her?”
I told her about finding Marcus Whitby, about my investigation into his death, and why I wanted to talk to Catherine in the first place-it seemed pointless to cover up Catherine’s presence at Larchmont on Sunday night. I even told Renee about being in the pond on Friday, but not that I’d heard her and Catherine talking. And I stuck to my story about finding the kitchen door open at Larchmont Halclass="underline" I didn’t want competing versions of my activities floating around.
“I was startled when the sheriff’s police suddenly arrived,” I said. “And I did wonder if it was you who’d alerted them to the notion that there really was someone in the house.”
Renee’s hand didn’t pause as she lifted her eggshell cup to her lips. She drank and set it down. “And what made you wonder that?”
“You knew Catherine was wandering around Larchmont in the dark;
she wouldn’t tell you why. She’s an ardent spirit, but she’s very youngperhaps you thought she might not recognize as dangerous someone she’d agreed to help. Perhaps you thought she had some outlaw holed up, someone she’d romanticized into a Robin Hood. I don’t know how you would have imagined this person, but you knew she valued her oath to protect him more even than the very strong bond between you and her. You wanted him found and moved off the Larchmont property.”
“So you did know she was wandering around there,” Edwards said to his mother. “And you did nothing to stop her!”
“I only learned on Friday.” For once, Renee was on the defensive. “I called Rick Salvi to tell him someone was hiding in the house; o? course I didn’t tell him it was someone Catherine was meeting.”
“Even so,” Edwards burst out, “you should have-“
“I thought I had Catherine well under my eye,” Renee said. “I looked in on her at midnight, right before I phoned Rick, and she was-she seemed to be -sleeping. I thought I’d have the problem solved before she woke up in the morning. Instead, she apparently waited for me to check on her, then went out her window onto the veranda roof and slid down a column to the ground. When I heard shots coming from the woods, I went back to her room-and found her gone. I don’t think anyone ever covered that ground to Larchmont faster than I did that night. Which was fortunate, since when I got there they were staring down at Catherine as if she were a movie they were watching. They hadn’t even sent for an ambulance.”
Edwards’s eyes flashed. “I’m sure your organizational skills saved her life. It’s a pity you didn’t apply them to keeping her from risking it.”
“She’s your daughter, Eds, she’ll do what she wants to do no matter how much I try to engineer a different outcome.” Renee spoke with the kind of saintly resignation that makes the hearer long to belt the speaker.